The Final Toast
by ApatheticWayToBe
Summary: Fred Weasley's funeral. George has a special, heartfelt contribution to make.


**Disclaimer: I always forget to add this, but I finally remembered! I don't own Harry Potter or the song "The Final Toast" by Hawk Nelson.**

Pain. Unbearable pain. Not physical pain, but emotional pain. Fear, anger, hopelessness, despair. It made a Dementor seem like a cheery sort of fellow that everybody loved.

A knock briefly drove away the pain, before it settled back in with a vengeance. "George?" he heard Ginny call from the other side of the door. "Please come out. You should at least sit with us if you don't want to plan anything." Planning. They were planning Fred's _funeral_. His twin brother's, his other half's _funeral_. It nearly made George scream in agony. Fred was dead, he had left George behind. There would be no more midnight snacks together, no more inventing together, no more_being_ together. There was no more Gred and Forge, just lonely old George.

More knocking interrupted George's bleak thoughts. "Please, George? Come out." He complied at last, pulling his body out of Fred's old bed at the Burrow with a nearly inaudible groan. He pulled open the door and stepped into his sister's waiting arms. "Thank you," she whispered before pulling him down the stairs and into the cramped kitchen of the Burrow. All eight remaining Weasleys were there along with Fleur, Harry, Hermione, and Lee Jordan. Molly Weasley hugged her second-youngest son tightly, nearly crushing his ribs.

"It's good to see you, Georgie," she said before pushing him into a chair and placing a quill and roll of parchment before him. "Just write down anything you might want to include, sweetheart." George sat staring at the table, the conversation between friends and family becoming a drone in his mind. He stayed like that until inspiration struck him. He picked up his quill and began to scribble furiously on the parchment. When he was done, he wordlessly showed his creation to his mother. She read it through and gave George a broad smile.

"This is lovely. I'm sure Fred will love it."

It was almost time for George's addition to the funeral. He breathed deeply and walked out onto the makeshift stage on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. He sat on a stool and started strumming an acoustic guitar. He had learned how to play in the Muggle village by the Burrow with Fred when they were twelve. Taking another deep breath, he began to sing.

"_Warwickshire to Fraserville and all between_

_You have left us here a life of memories_

_You forever changed the lives of all of us who have known you_

_Truth be told, this world feels cold without you_

_You gave all of us a better name_

_So here's the final toast we raise to you, dear friend_

_Good times will never be the same_

_And our thoughts still remain_

_We'll hold you in our thoughts forever and a day_

_And we'll never be the same_

_So the last toast that we raise goes to you_

_So if you've ever lost someone that's close to you_

_Waiting for the answers like the spring to bloom_

_I hope their tears are wiped away_

_When they're at the pearly gates praying for you_

_You have made this world a better place_

_So here's the final toast we raise to you, dear friend_

_Good times will never be the same_

_And our thoughts still remain_

_We'll hold you in our thoughts forever and a day_

_And we'll never be the same_

_So the last toast that we raise –_

_So here's the final toast we raise to you, dear friend_

_Good times will never be the same_

_And our thoughts still remain_

_We'll hold you in our thoughts forever and a day_

_And we'll never be the same_

_So the last toast that we raise goes to you_

_The last toast that we raise goes to you_"

As George ended the song he waved his wand and set off numerous crates of fireworks. They lit up the dusky sky with an image of a crystal goblet filled with Firewhisky. Beneath it in red and gold writing were the words, "In honor of Fred Weasley, one half of a whole." Goblets of Firewhisky appeared in everybody's hands.

"To Fred!" George cried.

"To Fred!" was the echo. George raised the goblet to his lips and threw his head back, downing it all in one go. As he swallowed, he could have sworn he heard his twin one last time.

"Thanks for the toast, Forge."


End file.
